Blood dripped down Grimoire’s throat, the leg of a fawn clenched between her scarlet teeth. The pack wolf, Alouette, who was giving her safe passage to Asteraia, had assisted in it’s capture. Though the hunt forced the journey to take a day, the severed leg was necessary both as a tribute and because of it’s aroma and weight - the blood scent kept Grimoire sedated and the weight kept her mindful of her body.

The sun was barely peaking out over the rolling hills - and then it was gone, leaving a pinkish glow in the darkening sky. A cord of approval was struck in the demon’s heartstrings. No other time of day would do. Then, she felt it. The center of death, warping the world towards it into unfathomable stillness. She broke stride and stiffened, her chest fluttering with primitive panic. The sensation ahead was…. magnetic. Winds began to brush pass her, sucked into the vortex she resisted. The deer leg gave her just enough weight to not be pulled along by the breeze like a leaf.

Her guide paused when she noticed, and tilted her head so her velvety ears flopped to the side in question. Then, her fur began to stand on end in response to the unnatural stillness in Grimoire’s pointed form. The golden masked female, quietly asked,

“Miss?”

”On your way, servitor. You have served your purpose well.”

Alouette’s ears tilted forwards, her chest puffing slightly. She nodded to her the teacher who’d given her the role she hadn’t known existed. And then like a bird, she vanished into the scene of her home. Grimoire felt her breath pulled out of her lungs some time later, when the wind had darkened the sky with clouds, and produce a long, lonely howl. Snow began to settle over the landscape; but the temperature was not the cause of her shivering. It’d been too long without knowing where Wraith was. And this scene was more unsettling than Taviora.

In the pines, she could hide from him, observe him from afar. Out here, on the plains, she was exposed. Nothing but her practice in resisting the tug of oblivion would protect her from him. But she was uncertain. Was she willful enough to resist his… chilling aura? He’d already pulled a howl from her lips. What else would he steal from her?